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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140583">Tie My Feet To Rocks And Drown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli'>Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Brothers Grim [25]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Dysphoria, Family Feels, Good Sibling Ben Hargreeves, Intervention, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:08:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m fucking my brothers.  Just like you’re fucking yours. What you tell yourself to sleep at night is up to you, but at the end of the day,” Diego stresses, “we’re fucking our brothers. Cut your sugar-coating bullshit. It is what it is. Is it incest? Emotionally, at least, yeah. Probably. But worse things have fucking happened, and I don’t need you to make it morally okay for me. For any of us. So ride your dick and can the intervention. We’re fine.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah!” Klaus agrees, heartily and Ben just knows he’s going to say something awful or embarrassing next. “And if that one ends up not completely unfortunate looking when he finally grows up, he can join too.” He points to Five, who --- doesn’t look as horrified as Ben would anticipate. </p><p> </p><p>Mostly he looks offended. “I’m in my fifties!” </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves/Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves/Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Ben Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Brothers Grim [25]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1303253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>313</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tie My Feet To Rocks And Drown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys! It's me and I'm back on my bullshit just in time for the new season. I told you I'd be back.  Be honest. Who thought that was the end of Brothers Grim? </p><p>This story is a rollercoaster of emotion. A lot is covered in a small amount of time.  It deals with intense canon topics. Mentions of suicide, and temporary canon deaths.  It wouldn't let me add that to the tags.  No one is more dead than they are in the show, promise. </p><p>Title  is from Grimes 'you're gonna miss me when I'm gone' and it is appropriate.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    There’s a greenhouse, overrun, and verdant.  Curling vines creep up the iron where it joins the windows, and fat, presumptuous bees bop from bloom to bloom. Klaus won’t take credit for the heavy-headed roses blooming freely, but Ben sees him watering them from time to time anyway, talking to them - singing. They’re his.  A strawberry plant spills a wild riot, from a cracked pot in the corner.  Butterflies flutter from the open door. It’s warm and wet and mostly wild, save for the shallow wooden pats stretching along with the windows, tended lovingly by Klaus and his pale hands. </p><p> </p><p>It’s weed. He’s growing more grass. Shocker.  </p><p> </p><p>    But there are pastel flower petals caught in his curls, and he’s smiling with the faintest shade of pink in his cheek. Horticulture is as healthy a hobby as he’s ever had, so no one gives him shit about it. Ben would never let them. </p><p> </p><p>    Ben <em> likes </em> the greenhouse and the eerie shafts of light that pour in slow like smoke, through smeared patches of <em> clean </em>in the otherwise filth-coated green glass walls.  They sparkle with dust and nostalgia.  He watches Klaus and his clever fingers nip and trim and inspect each plant. </p><p> </p><p>    He's sleepy-eyed and sweet on the scent of lavender and roses. Klaus washes his hands under rusty taps that come to life with a tired old groan. He closes his eyes, lets the buzz of bees take him down. Klaus hums as he works, a spindly tune Ben remembers from the Jazz ghost that haunted the patch of sidewalk on the corner.  He lets the sound and sleepy warmth of sunlight lull him to sleep, comfortable beneath a cloudless sky, on a beanbag chair Diego had dragged in for him forever ago. </p><p> </p><p>    A familiar thumb presses his bottom lip. He opens his eyes, and Klaus is cast in watercolor of summer shine, a strawberry split on the sharp cut of his teeth. Klaus lowers it to Ben’s mouth, and he bites, the give of the berry waking something visceral and hungry inside him.  Klaus must see it on him, must read it in his face. He kneels beside Bens beanbag, kissing him sweetly and then with bite. </p><p> </p><p>    Ben likes the greenhouse and all the things Klaus grows inside it. </p><p> </p><p>    Including the heat in the pit of his belly. It’s been a while now since Ben kissed Klaus that first time, in their shitty little bathroom.  They’re better at it now, experts even. Klaus puts Ben into place with two cold hands on his face and kisses him deeper, with intent now, sweet as his own grown strawberries.  Maybe it’s the weed, but Klaus always feels so cold. Ben’s burning up. The contradicting slide of their mouths where they meet is enough to turn him inside out. Klaus has a hand in Ben’s hair, leads him easily with it until all their angles fit into place.  He’s made room for himself between Ben’s spread thighs, and they’re too old for this, spread out on a fucking bean bag, it’s true, but...</p><p> </p><p>    It feels <em> good </em>. </p><p> </p><p>    Klaus slides down Ben’s body, touching <em> everything </em> with his <em> everything </em>as he does it. He drags (Diegos) Ben’s sweats down as he goes and wastes precisely zero time getting on Ben’s dick. </p><p> </p><p>    “<em> Guh </em> .” Ben breathes out, spine curling up when Klaus takes him all down. His fingers bite into Ben’s thighs, very gently, as he gets Ben in his <em> throat </em>. </p><p> </p><p>    He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but rough fingers touch his face, and Ben looks up to find Diego smiling down at him. “The door was <em> open </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>    Ben doesn’t mean to latch onto him, but his fingers are curling into Diego’s sleeve even as he speaks. “May--Maybe we  were waiting on you?” He tries, as Klaus pushes his thighs farther apart. </p><p> </p><p>    Diego puts his hand in Ben’s hair and <em> pulls </em> . It’s a terrible thing, a terribly beautiful thing, and Ben’s mouth opens as if instructed to do so a Pavlovian response. But Diego’s already there, sliding his thumb between Ben’s teeth to press against his thumb. “You weren’t waiting for anything,” he tells Ben, laughing even as his thumb slides deeper to rest at the back of Ben’s mouth.  He pulls Ben’s hair again, tips his head back further. Klaus chooses that exact moment to lick Ben’s balls with absolute <em> enthusiasm </em>. </p><p> </p><p>    Ben does the only logical thing he can think of in response. </p><p>    He undoes Diego’s jeans. </p><p> </p><p>    Diego shows his appreciation for Ben’s good thinking by pulling his hair again, and yeah, Ben cries out but not because it hurts. Because Klaus <em> stops </em>.</p><p> </p><p> “Don’t be so rough on him.” Klaus’s mouth is red and swollen and thin with a reprimand.</p><p> </p><p>    It’s a regular argument between Klaus and Diego; one Ben won’t get into because he benefits from both their attentions and has zero complaints. Diego grins and hooks his thumb over Ben’s bottom teeth, forcing his mouth open. “He’d tell me to stop if he wanted me to stop.” </p><p> </p><p>    Klaus makes a disapproving noise, from the bottom of Ben’s balls. He can’t stand the idea that Ben might ever need to stay stop, doesn’t get that Ben likes how Diego would stop. It’s controlling, something tangible, quantifiable. They don’t need to dissect it. It’s just a little thing that Ben likes. He doesn’t get bossy, God - no. </p><p> </p><p>    It’s just...a little thing that he likes. </p><p> </p><p>    He bites down on Diego’s knuckle, enough to send a message. Diego tugs his hand away dutifully, and Ben can practically <em> feel </em>the smugness radiating off Klaus. </p><p> </p><p>And Klaus probably has a lot to say, something witty, something bright, but Ben’s not here to listen to it. Ben’s here to suck Diego’s dick. </p><p> </p><p>Diego yelps, fingers tightening in Ben’s hair. It’s not going to be the best blowjob in the world. Ben’s twisted at a weird angle, and the beanbag puts him at an odd height, and he’s really only got <em> practical </em>knowledge of how this works. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh--What!” Klaus cries out, pink mouth pursed in indignation as he abandons Ben’s cock completely. “Aww, I was waiting for you to blow <em> me, </em>Benny, what the fuck!” </p><p> </p><p>Ben uses his distraction to flip over and right off the bean bag so he can kneel. And--- yeah, it’s a lot easier like this.  Diego’s hand gentles in his hair as Ben braces one hand on his thigh, the other wrapped around the base of Diego’s dick. </p><p> </p><p>Because it’s sort of a lot of dick and Ben’s just...not fully on board with that yet. </p><p> </p><p>Diego doesn’t seem to mind. His thigh twitches beneath Ben’s palm, and he’s swearing in that tense, sharp way he does when he’s just trying to keep it together, fighting, fucking, breaking and entering, it didn’t matter. </p><p> </p><p>His toes are curled, bare against the cement floor. Ben thinks maybe he could like this. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” Klaus hisses at the exact moment his hand settles on Ben’s hips. “You little---” He stops himself, and Ben knows what he was going to say it, can practically hear it in his mind. Slut, he thinks, with a wild little thrill. Klaus almost called him a <em> slut </em>. It shocks a long, helpless sort of groan from his busy mouth that Diego vocally appreciates. </p><p> </p><p>“God <em> Damn </em> ,” Diego says, spreading his thighs a little, widening his stance for balance. He still has a hand in Ben’s hair, but the other cups his jaw, thumb pressing gently against his throat. “Fuck--- Ben. <em>Oh</em>,<em> my God</em>.” His jerks his hips, just a little, like he wants to fuck Ben’s face and that---- that’s something to think about later. </p><p> </p><p><em> Lick his balls, </em> Klaus thinks, and it’s just---it’s a new thing that’s happening, something they don’t talk about, don’t do.  He can hear Klaus, and Klaus can hear him, and it’s somehow a lot and not all at once. They’ve been in each other’s pocket for so long; they never needed tele-whatever to know what they were thinking. <em> Put them in your mouth; he loves that. </em></p><p> </p><p>And okay - there is something oddly reassuring about Klaus in his head. It’s probably the weird mental equivalent of having your handheld through giving your first blow job, but Ben’s honestly here for it. He drags his mouth down Diego’s dick and does precisely what Klaus had suggested, earning himself a startled, broken moan. </p><p> </p><p>So yeah - maybe he just likes it when Klaus tells him what to do. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>    When they finally emerge from the greenhouse, loose-limbed and sweaty, they find the collective rest of their family in the Parlor.  Klaus backs right out, the <em> nope </em>clear on his face.  Ben grabs him by the elbow, forces him to remain. He gets it though - this smacks of intervention. Diego’s sleepy, sated smile is gone, replaced instead with an immediate and intense expression of absolute irritation.  Yeah - Ben gets it. </p><p> </p><p>    “Heeeeey,” Vanya drawls, with a bright, too-friendly grin on her face. “So, we just wanted to have a little talk.” As if on a predetermined queue, Allison elbows Luther, who stands, repositioning himself in front of the door.  It solidifies Ben’s theory. This is absolutely an intervention. “This is a safe space.” </p><p> </p><p>    “Whatever it is you think you need to say, we don’t care,” Klaus informs her, very primly. “And I’m fairly certain I speak for all of us when I say we will throw ourselves bodily from the window if you do not make Luther move. Our deaths and/or grievous injury will be on your conscious, Allison. How will you live with yourself?” </p><p> </p><p>    “You can’t kill yourself while wearing my pants, Klaus. It’s rude,” Allison says, very frankly.  And by Klaus’s weird moral code, Ben thinks...she’s probably right. Klaus can’t kill himself wearing her pants. </p><p> </p><p>    Luther interjects, a deep scowl wrinkling his forehead. “Allison doesn’t tell me what to do.” </p><p> </p><p>    “You’re right, baby, you do what you want,” Allison assures him, very primly. “But why don’t you sit back down/ He’s right, this isn’t meant to be a hostile environment.” She says it like she didn’t suggest Luther bar the fucking door. His siblings. Honestly. </p><p> </p><p>“Crack the whip a little harder there, Big Al, put some hustle in him,” Klaus mocks, slapping Luther boldly on the ass as he passes. “Big Baby Luther loves to follow orders.” </p><p> </p><p>“Klaus,” Vanya says, a little bit strained. “We just want you guys to know that we know, and we don’t care. We don’t want you to feel as if you need to hide your----” </p><p> </p><p>“Hot, rampant, sweaty, filthy sex we have all over the house sometimes in the open?” Klaus raises an eyebrow, and honestly - Ben’s not going to argue. They do have hot, rampant, sweaty, filthy sex all over the house and sometimes in the open. They’d left the greenhouse door open, for fucks sake. “Were you under the impression we were hiding the fact?” </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh.” Vanya blinks, looking over to Allison for help.  </p><p> </p><p>“What we mean to say is that we don’t care. We understand, even.” Allison pats Luther's tree-trunk thigh. “At the end of the day, we have no biological ties. And our childhood didn’t really lend itself to healthy sibling relationships.  So it’s understandable that we might---” </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get one thing straight,” Diego cuts her off, sharp and short as ever. “They’re my <em> brothers </em>. Before anything else - they’re my brothers. Both of them. They’re my brothers like you’re my sister like you’re all my siblings. If you don’t feel that way, then----” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course I do, Diego,” Allison interjects.  Their conversations are always like this, overlapping arguments, and broken sentences. “I didn’t mean---” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The problem with Allison, Ben thinks, is that she’s the sweetest, most sincere person most days. But she’s not well-spoken. Something about Hollywood made her rely on having words fed to her.  Diego never lets it go. But they’re all works in progress, Ben supposes. They’re always room for growth, except maybe for himself. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fucking my brothers.  Just like you’re fucking yours. What you tell yourself to sleep at night is up to you, but at the <em> end of the day </em>,” Diego stresses, “we’re fucking our brothers. Cut your sugar-coating bullshit. It is what it is. Is it incest? Emotionally, at least, yeah. Probably. But worse things have fucking happened, and I don’t need you to make it morally okay for me. For any of us. So ride your dick and can the intervention. We’re fine.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah!” Klaus agrees, heartily and Ben just knows he’s going to say something awful or embarrassing next. “And if that one ends up not completely unfortunate looking when he finally grows up, he can join too.” He points to Five, who --- doesn’t look as horrified as Ben would anticipate. </p><p> </p><p>Mostly he looks offended. “I’m in my fifties!” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but you look like you’re sixteen or something. You’re cute and all, but I like my meat fully seasoned if you know what I mean. Ben, if you insist, it probably wouldn’t be weird for Ben.” </p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s weird for me,” Ben says, shaking his head.  It’s not so much that Five looks young. They’re relatively close in physical age now, to the despair of both of them.   No, it’s his general air of hostility.  He’s so angry all the time, and Ben’s never liked a problem he didn’t know how to solve. “Sorry, Five. You kind of scare me.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well fuck you very much,” Five says, <em> very </em> offended. Ben...isn’t expecting that. Anger maybe, but Five looks <em> hurt </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Are we done here?” Klaus asks, lighting a joint because he knows how much Allison hates it when he smokes in the house. “I have brothers to fuck, and I gotta be to work by nine.” </p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t you just---” Vanya shakes her head, dispelling her questions. “We don’t want you to feel like this was an attack. We just wanted you to know... If you’re happy, we’re happy for you. It’s not conventional, not...not even if you weren’t brothers, but polyamorous relationships aren’t---.” </p><p> </p><p>Klaus blows a smoke ring at her and levitates several feet off the floor, cross-legged like he’s got not a care in the world. “Listen, love. If you’re trying to get in on this, I’m sorry, but Ben’s not into women.” </p><p> </p><p>    “That’s untested,” Ben interjects. Women just scare him. The women he knows - Allison, Vanya, a tiny handful of others; they’re scary.  More women have tried to murder him than men, honestly (if you count Vanya). Statistics like that rarely lie. “Not that I want---- Sorry, Vanya.” He never thought not wanting to fuck his siblings were going to be a problem in his life, but here they are. The Hargreeves. If they don’t have a problem currently, they’re happy to make one. </p><p> </p><p>“So what - you’re just into bad facial hair?” Five mutters from his chair, arms crossed over, petulant and absolutely sixteen.  </p><p> </p><p>    Vanya smiles the sort that dimples her cheeks. “It’s okay. I’m pretty sure I’m a lesbian anyways.” </p><p> </p><p>    Allison whips around to face her. “Wait? But what about---” That Psycho Harold Jenkins.</p><p> </p><p>    “I think I just liked the attention.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal to ride a dick for attention and actually ---- no, Ben could confirm that’s a valid coping mechanism coming out of their childhood; he watched Klaus do it for years. No one would hold it against her. Certainly not Ben.  “But yeah - I’ve been seeing someone I met in group therapy. Her name is Amy. She’s a meteorologist.” </p><p> </p><p>    “Well. Good for you, honey,” Allison says, looking very, very pleased. “If you ever want to bring her over, we can probably pretend to be normal. Or we can just leave. Whichever you want.” </p><p>    That </p><p>    “Alright,” Klaus claps his hands and unfolds his legs to stand. “Well, if that’s all. Unless you want to discuss finding Five a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I don’t want to assume. There’s a high school a few blocks over---” </p><p> </p><p>    “Did it ever occur to you assholes that maybe I like my <em> meat </em>seasoned as well? I don’t want to fuck teenagers because I’m not a fucking teenager?” He throws himself out of the chair, shoving his way past Diego, Klaus, and Ben.  “Maybe I find it just as repulsive as you all apparently find me!” He slams the door on his way out so hard it rattles the dust free from the ceiling. </p><p> </p><p>    Well. If it was awkward before, it’s certainly not better now.  Klaus clears his throat. “It’s hard being a fifty-eight-year-old teenager.” </p><p> </p><p>    “Klaus,” Ben sighs, closing his eyes. “Are we done here? I’d like to be done here. Everyone knows, yay! Great! Can we go back to pretending it’s not happening?” </p><p> </p><p>    “That’s what we don’t want,” Allison says gently. “But if that’s what you need, then sure. We can. We’re not trying to make it weird, Ben. We just want...we just want everyone to be happy.”  Five chooses that exact moment to stomp his way up the stairs and slam his bedroom door exactly like a sixteen-year-old. “Should I go talk to him?” </p><p> </p><p>    “No.” Diego elbows him gently. He makes a face, eyebrows raised, and Ben gets it, obviously. He gets it. “If anyone gets what it’s like to be stuck at sixteen, it’s Ben.” </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>    He doesn’t knock on Five’s door. Five will just tell him to go away, and Ben will listen because --- well, mostly because he doesn’t want to do this.  Even now, even after a year, he’s still a little awkward with the others.  He’s not good with confrontation, doesn’t like conflict, doesn’t like strife. He doesn’t like anger, and Five is just...all anger. </p><p> </p><p>    Worse - Ben thinks he deserves to be angry. Five has every right to be angry. </p><p> </p><p>    He finds Five under his blankets, curled in a ball on his narrow bed. He’d always been a small kid, and it hadn’t changed overly much even in the firm grasp of teenagedom.  Ben is easily half a foot taller.  Still, he peels off his jacket and slides under the covers. </p><p> </p><p>    “What is this? A pity fuck?” Five mumbles into his pillow. “Go away.” </p><p> </p><p>    “We’re all a bunch of ungrateful assholes,” Ben begins, because it’s true. Five had spent so long alone, so long fighting to get back, to save his family and the whole fucking world. He’d spent his life, a life none of them could even encompass just trying to get back to them. “We treat you like a child, but we also treat you like you don’t need anything from us.” </p><p> </p><p>    “I don’t,” Five insists. “I’m only here because, according to the state of New York, I still require a keeper.” </p><p> </p><p>    “Five,” Ben says, sliding his arm over Five’s middle and forcing him to uncurl. He’s spooning Five. Jesus Christ.</p><p> </p><p>Five’s a rigid line against him. “What...What are you doing?” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know honestly, sometimes Klaus does this when I’m... You know. Not...Not...” When Ben gets depressed when Ben can’t force himself to get out of bed. When Ben gets stuck in his head, circling a drain that reminds him he’s half dead. “It helps.” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need help.” </p><p> </p><p>“I get it. Why you wouldn’t want to date teenagers.” Sometimes Diego and Klaus bring it up, that maybe Ben’s ready to try...putting himself out there. They don’t see it the way he does. The way Five does. “I’m thirty.  I don’t... It wouldn’t be right.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> disgusting </em> . I’m not a pedophile! I don’t want ugly little teenagers--- I could be their <em> grandfather </em> .” And yeah, Ben’s going to give him that. That does sound awful. “I hate this body. I <em> hate </em>it.” </p><p> </p><p>It breaks Ben’s heart a little. He hooks his chin over Five’s shoulder awkwardly. It’s not the same, as Diego or Klaus. It’s incredibly awkward, the contact, the attempt at affection. But Ben’s determined, and Five hasn’t physically assaulted him for the audacity, so quitting now would just be rude.  And ---- well. This is something Ben might understand. </p><p> </p><p>In his desperate attempts to understand his own internal drama, Ben had spent a lot of time in the Self Help Section at the local library, his go-to solution station since childhood.  He’d read every book about discovering your inner-self, finding your purpose, all that bullshit.  Some of it had helped a little if only to make peace with his situation. He’s not entirely at peace with it, but he thinks he will be with time. </p><p> </p><p>What Five is describing is body dysmorphia. </p><p>   </p><p>    “Do you remember when we were little, you and I were always the shortest. Besides Vanya.” But Vanya had always been so excluded, neither had probably thought to note it. “We always beat the others at hide-and-seek because we could get in places they wouldn’t even think to look.” It wasn’t called hide-and-seek, of course. It was part of they’re tactical evasion training. </p><p> </p><p>    “We hid in the cupboards above the sink for an hour before Mom found us,” Five recalls, in a voice so small, Ben barely catches it. “You had to help me get up on the counters.” </p><p> </p><p>    “Five, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, no one ever... Someone should have realized. I should have realized...not even about dating or sex or whatever, but just how much it sucks.”  He hugs him a little harder, feels himself self tremble. “It fucking <em> sucks </em>. It really sucks. And I know...I know I don’t get it right now. I know it’s not the same. I look sixteen, but I’m only thirty, and you’re in your fifties but---” </p><p> </p><p>    “We don’t know if you’ll age.”  Five breathes out, all at once, and rolls in the curl of Ben’s arm, to face him. “It might happen to you too.” </p><p> </p><p>    Ben nods, once. He’s quite certain he’s never actually been this physically close to Five.  His eyes are somehow brighter from six inches away. “I’m still dead.” </p><p> </p><p>    “More alive these days.” Five has both his fists balled against his chest, and his mouth is a thin, grim line. “It really is a shit way to live.” </p><p>   </p><p>    “Why do you wear the uniform?” Ben’s always been curious, but Five doesn’t exactly welcome personal questions. Or any questions. </p><p> </p><p>    His gaze drops suddenly, and he stares instead at Ben’s chest. “It’s a punishment,” he says, brow furrowing. “Sometimes, I think this is all a punishment for leaving that day. For not listening. Dad was right; I wasn’t ready. And look at what happened. I did this to myself.” </p><p> </p><p>    “Yeah, but you came back just in time to save all our asses.” And they’d thanked him by treating him like a <em> child </em>. And not a child, in the same breath.</p><p> </p><p>    “You <em> died </em>.” He sounds vicious as he speaks, the ball of his fist wrapping itself in Ben’s shirt. “Maybe I could have saved you if I hadn’t been such a fucking shit head. I could have stopped them. I could have gotten you out of there.” </p><p> </p><p>    Ben swallows, heart in his throat. Only Klaus knows what happened that day, and even only he knows the half of it.  But - Five deserves to know, Ben thinks.  Ben wants him to know. “Five, I killed myself.” its the first time he’s said the words, and it hurts as much as he anticipated it would. </p><p> </p><p>    Five does look at him then, sharp and shocked and wide-eyed. “<em> What </em>?” </p><p>   </p><p>    “I killed myself,” Ben says again. That’s two times now that he’s said it out loud. Ever. “I killed myself, and then I haunted Klaus and I---” Drove him to drink. To drugs. To the very bottom, to the brink. “I ruined him.” </p><p> </p><p>    “No,” Five says immediately, the same steel in his voice that carries into everything. “No - you and Klaus. You were... you were always meant to stay together.” </p><p> </p><p>    “He tried to tell the others. He tried to tell Dad that I was haunting him, that I was--- That I was there. And Dad just...” Ben remembers it vividly, horribly. “He laughed and told Klaus that maybe it would be the incentive he required to master his potential fully. But instead, he got addicted to pills and started doing heroin. At sixteen.” </p><p> </p><p>    “He started before that.” </p><p> </p><p>    “Well, he got worse after I died.” Ben swallows. He didn’t come up here to do this. He came up here to help Five. Jesus. “It’s why I’m always with him, you know? Ghosts stay where they haunt.” </p><p> </p><p>    Five’s fist gentles in his shirt, and he splays his palm over Ben’s chest. “Why’d you do it?” </p><p> </p><p>    He’s feared that question all his death, and maybe that’s why he could never really say it. Klaus had known - that kind of death left a stain on your soul, but he had never asked. “Because I’m a monster.” Five opens his mouth to speak, to argue, to fight because he’s Five. “No,” Ben says shortly. “All of you, you guys have <em> gifts </em> . But I’m just a monster. Or home to a monster. A monster that I couldn’t control.  And I just couldn’t do it anymore. After you left---” Five makes a hurt noise, and Ben doesn’t want to say anything else, nothing, but he knows he has too. “We missed you <em> so </em>much.” He chokes a little at the end. He wonders if anyone’s told Five. “We missed you so much, and we all...we all realized that you were right to leave. You were smart. You got out. Klaus and I--- we talked about it all the time. Running away, just like you. Klaus did a few times, but I was scared. Because I’m not like you, Five. I’m not like Klaus, or Diego, or any of them. I’m a monster. The last mission Dad sent us on----,” Ben closes his eyes. “He made me release them. He knew I hated it.  I begged him not to make me; I begged him. Mom even tried to intervene, and he threatened to deprogram her. So when...when they were done, and...and everything was done...I let them kill me. They were always so hungry; I didn’t even have to try. I just let them.” </p><p> </p><p>    They’d <em> ripped </em> right through him, and then ripped themselves apart. He’d bled out on the floor, remembers Luther’s big, warm hands pressed against his desiccated stomach as if he could staunch the blood flow.  Diego had held Klaus back while Klaus <em> screamed </em>, fighting against the bar of Diego’s arms, tears streaming down his twisted, devastated face. It’s the last thing Ben saw, alive. </p><p> </p><p>    Five’s blue eyes are bright and watery. “Your insides didn’t match your outsides.” </p><p> </p><p>    “No,” Ben says, having never found such a concise way of putting it. “No, they didn’t.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know why you’re scared of me. I don’t mean to be so angry all the time,” Five says, sudden but soft. “I just... I spent my whole life trying to get back to my family, and when I did...I’m glad I did. I am. I just...I hate this. I hate it. And it’ll never get better. I’ll always be older on the inside than the out. I’ll never match.” He presses his face right to Ben’s chest, hiding tears Ben won’t comment on. “I guess you understand that more than anyone.” </p><p> </p><p>“Misery does love company,” Ben jokes, awkwardly tucking Five under his chin. “I find it harder to be miserable, though, these days.” </p><p> </p><p>“Klaus,” Five surmises. “And Diego. I caught them once, you know. I was disappointed. I knew Klaus and you... I thought Klaus was---” </p><p> </p><p>It makes Ben smile a little. He can imagine Five’s outrage on his behalf. “We’re not like what you and the rest of them think, you know. Well. Klaus and Diego are working up to something. But I don’t... I’m not romantically interested in either of them. I love them. But...it’s not like that for me.” </p><p> </p><p>Five reels back just enough to make a face. “I can’t fully explain why, but that makes the incest worst, I think.” </p><p> </p><p>Ben laughs. “Yeah, maybe. But I mean - why does it matter, you know? Who’s it hurting?” Ben genuinely never thought he’d have to justify this verbally. He’d coasted on the ignorant assumption that Diego or Klaus would do it for him. “I don’t want to feel bad about being happy. And Klaus, Diego. They’re happy too.  We’re never going to be able to love normal people. There’s hope for Vanya; she lived like a normal person for years. The rest of us are fucked.” </p><p> </p><p>“You more than others.” Five grins a little and then sighs with the whole of his small, lanky body. “The only romantic connection I’ve ever made was with a mannequin I imprinted on to keep myself sane in a post-apocalyptic world. So, essentially, I spent the better part of my life in a relationship with myself. I don’t really think you bounce back from that. Even if I didn’t find dating in my physical age range so repulsive that the very thought makes my balls draw so far up into my body, I could declare my collective sperm count as missing persons - I’m not sure I could put myself out there. I’m not sure I know how to start. Most people are stupid and awful, anyways. I’m tired of being alone, but I---” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re not alone.” </p><p> </p><p>“You know what I mean.” Five fiddles with the pocket on Ben’s t-shirt, for nothing better to do with his hands. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to be alone.” They’ve been back together for over a year now; it’s an absolute travesty that Five should still feel alone. “I’m going to be a better brother, this time, okay?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not really ----” He squints at Five, mouth pinched. “I don’t know if I can be like you are. Like you’re with Diego and Klaus.” </p><p> </p><p>“Just a brother,” Ben says. “Klaus and Diego keep saying I should try to get out of the house more without them. Maybe we could... do something. Get dinner or something.” </p><p> </p><p>“It still sounds like you’re asking me out on a date.” Five smiles as he says it, though. “Yeah, I guess I could get out more.” </p><p> </p><p>There. That’s settled. They talked about things. They shared their feelings. They came to a healthy conclusion. Overall, Ben feels pretty good about everything.</p><p> </p><p> “You wanna nap off the rest of this emotional roller coaster and go make Diego buy us booze? Klaus works tonight.” As a rule, they don’t bring alcohol into the house when Klaus is home. Klaus doesn’t comment, but Ben thinks he appreciates it. </p><p> </p><p>“Ben, that’s the best offer I’ve heard in my life.” </p><p> </p><p>   </p><p>   </p><p> </p><p>   </p><p> </p><p>   </p><p> </p><p>   </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please please please tell me what you think of Fine and Ben's friendship because I honestly don't know where I'm going with it. Im open to anything,  but I'm struck with indecision. Bros. More. Their own sub-series.  I don't know. </p><p>Let me know what you liked,  loved and hated.  You all know im a dumb slut for the comment section.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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